


Recitals (or: the meet-cute)

by forochel



Series: faerie bae-kerie au [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Fae, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Meet-Cute, Utter ridiculousness, up the wazoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: A quick glance across the street was all that was required to identify Sungjin-hyung's friend's bakery."Is this a joke?" Wonpil muttered grumpily to himself.Anyone with even half-decent eyes could see this place was fae-run; there were the plants growing out of season, midsummer flowers blooming from hemp-woven planters suspended from the overhang that skirted the squat, two-storey building thatSweet Chaossprawled out of.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Series: faerie bae-kerie au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589374
Comments: 39
Kudos: 105





	Recitals (or: the meet-cute)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO TINY FANDOM, i bellow. n.b. this fic (series) is just one long joke about contracts
> 
> thx to bysine & alykapedia for reading bits of this, esp aly since she knows NOTHING of day6 and laughed sympathetically at me whilst i complained about wordcount creep. 
> 
> also this probably doesn't need to be said but uh please do not use this fic or series of fics as a precedent. Writer shall not be liable for any loss etc incurred as a result of or arising from reliance on these clauses.

### Recitals (or: the meet-cute)

Sometimes, Wonpil regretted taking up the job offer to move one city over.

The kids were wonderful, of course, if accompanied by the typical work hazards of glitter everywhere, glue in inexplicable places, never an article of clothing without a crayon stain on it — but the flat.

"The _flat_ ," moaned Wonpil, head in his hands. "No one told me about pixies! Isn't that the kind of thing you'd put down on your listing? Warning: prone to pixie infestations?"

"Well," said Jae carefully, "are you looking to sue your landlord as well? Do you have a copy of the rental agreement with you?"

A pause. "Rental agreement?"

Jae resisted the urge to put his head in his hands as well. "Yes. A contract between you and your landlord? A piece of paper — more than one piece of paper — saying how much your rent is, how long it's for, all the stip— the terms and conditions ...? You should have signed it before moving in?"

"Oh," said Wonpil. "I'm renting from the person who actually rents the place, so..."

Jae stared. "Okay, this is not ... this is not what I do, to be honest with you. I can refer you to a lawyer who can help you with this, unless your landlord ... or the person you're subletting from is fae?"

"Oh," said Wonpil again, small and wan. "That's all right, it's only eight more months and the lease is month-to-month, anyway. But what about those exterminators?"  
  


*

  
When Sungjin-hyung had sent him to go see his lawyer friend, he'd also mentioned a bakery across the street, because "You'll need it, Wonpil-ah."

And Wonpil found that he did, as Jae waved him out the door.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs that led down from Jae's offices to the high street to finish pulling his gloves on.

The streets were narrower in this part of the city, so close to the mountains, and the buildings a little older, built more solidly of stone quarried of old from the mountains and naturally fallen wood from the forests. You could tell where the thin places were: where people had never forgotten how to live with the other folk, where the integration laws had been merely absorbed into the daily weave of life with only the mildest of hiccups.

It was a far cry from the sky-scraping, screaming urbanity of the city core down the river, closer to the sea, and from the solid mundanity of where Wonpil had grown up.

A quick glance across the street was all that was required to identify Sungjin-hyung's friend's bakery.

"Is this a joke?" Wonpil muttered grumpily to himself.

Anyone with even half-decent eyes could see this place was fae-run; there were the plants growing out of season, midsummer flowers blooming from hemp-woven planters suspended from the overhang that skirted the squat, two-storey building that _Sweet Chaos_ sprawled out of.

The bite of oncoming winter was keen in the air, despite the autumnal blaze of copper-orange-red leaves, but there were still a few copper-wrought filigree tables out on the narrow verandah, flames with no fuel dancing in the air to warm the scatter of patrons taking their afternoon tea.

Magical fire aside, there was just something _more_ about the place. Wonpil thought himself quite finished with _more_.

But then there was Sungjin-hyung's recommendation, and the smell that wafted so enticingly of the door, and as Wonpil hesitantly pushed the door open, the rush of rich, spiced warm air that took the chill away from his cheeks.

There was also an enormous scroll that materialised in front of him, unfurling right before Wonpil's eyes. In large, elegant calligraphy, it said:

> THE BAKERY REPRESENTS AND WARRANTS THAT:
> 
>   1. the Bakery has made all reasonable efforts to ensure that the Goods have no lasting magical effects that impair judgment, function, or otherwise impact the normal behaviour and thoughts and physical wellbeing of the Customer, unless specifically requested in writing
>   2. There is no fae obligation attached to the purchase or consumption of Goods within or without the Bakery
>   3. The knowledge of a Customer's True Name, gained in the conduct of typical business operations including but not limited to: (i) order fulfilment; (ii) reservations; (iii) casual conversation conducted in the pursuit of customer service; as well as gained by chance, coincidence, or any other act of fae on the Premises, will not be used in any way by the owners and employees of the Bakery for personal, monetary, or any other gain. Any breach of this warranty will be treated as Material and subject to the terms of section 13*
> 

> 
> For the avoidance of doubt, Goods include but are not limited to biscuits (British); cakes; cookies (American); croissants; danishes; Jaffa cakes; scones; welshcakes ...

Halfway through the non-exhaustive list of things that were apparently available for sale at the establishment, the doorbell tinkled behind Wonpil, bringing with it a chilly gust of wind and someone saying, "Oh, a new customer! Wow, and he's actually reading it?"

"I've learnt my lesson," Wonpil said direly, not looking away from the scroll. "What are welshcakes?"

The newcomer drew level with Wonpil; out of the corner of Wonpil's eye he got the impression of height, red hair, and a camel-brown coat. "Kind of like drop scones, but Welsh. I'm sorry, that wasn't very helpful, was it? We also don't have them today, I'm afraid."

Wonpil looked up.

The air caught in his lungs.

His heart started thudding fast, throwing itself against his ribs, and he could feel himself getting shy all over, the fingers of his left hand already twisting into those of his right.

"Um," he managed. "That ... that's okay?"

It was thanks only to how his knees had locked, probably, that he didn't melt straight into the slate slabs of the beautifully laid floor, when — the owner? Of the bakery? probably? smiled at him, dark eyes and white teeth gleaming in the warm light.

"Read the rest of that, if you like — it'll make our lawyer happy anyway — and we'll see what we can get you set up with, eh?"

Wonpil looked swiftly back at the scroll, still hanging patiently mid-air. He might've felt relief, except that Dreadfully Attractive Baker was still standing next to him, his presence alone a pressing _thing_ that felt like it had its own gravitational pull. And so Wonpil gave up and took a leaf out of his students' books, raising a hand to trace a finger along the words, mouthing along as he read.

"By reading this document and stepping through it, you acknowledge the —" Wonpil gave up and stepped through, bracing himself against anything weird and coming up short when there was an absolute absence of anything. More to himself than anything else, he murmured a startled, "Oh."

And when he turned to the Dreadfully Attractive Baker, who was still just _standing there_ — which he was allowed to, of course, this was his bakery, he could stand in the middle of the space and strip naked if he wanted to, probably, though Wonpil would need ample warning and maybe two shots of vodka beforehand — and _smiling_ at him.

"Um," said Wonpil awkwardly, and started walking tentatively towards the counter, behind which stood another unnecessarily tall person, who stood slightly hunched over, like he was apologetic about his height. There was a grin tucked away into the corner of his mouth; Wonpil decided that he was decidedly the safer option to look at here. "I'll just ... go? Look at what you have today..."

The smile on Stupidly Hot Baker's face looked like it was going to calcify in place for a second, before there was a flurry of movement as he shook himself all over like a wet dog and started hurrying towards what Wonpil assumed were the kitchen doors. "Right! Yeah, Dowoonie can help you — I'm just going to — go —"

 _Ah_ , Wonpil caught himself thinking, _cute_.

Dowoon was full on grinning when Wonpil approached.

"Hello!" Dowoon waved. "What can we get you today?"

Wonpil looked at him, and then down at the display cases of shiny-looking flaked pastries, fluffy cakes, sticky rice cakes that looked miraculously still soft and chewy, and an assortment of perfectly-sized cookies in jars lining the the tops of the cases. "Should I ask for the full Agreement?"

Blinking, Dowoon laughed a little and said, "Well, you'd be maybe the second person to ask for it, but it's here somewhere..."

"Who's the first?" Wonpil couldn't help but ask.

"Oh," said Dowoon, ducking his head. "Our lawyer friend, he works just across the —"

" _Jae-sshi_?"

"You know him?" Dowoon perked up. "Yeah! Hyungie said he'd redraft it for us pro bono, because we clearly needed it."

"Okay." Wonpil turned back to the display cases. "I don't need to see it then."

"That's very trusting of you," said Ridiculously Handsome Baker, who'd emerged from the back with a russet brown apron with a helpfully blank nametag pinned to it, "considering that hyung is a fae too. It's on his namecard and everything."

"I trust my lawyer," Wonpil sniffed, turning his nose up as the imp of mischief took him. The imp of _something_ , anyway.

"Jae-hyung's your lawyer?" Dowoon asked. "Wow, you do need something nice now, I guess. My head hurt so much after the first time he read our guarantee thing and just talked for like an hour. What do you feel like?"

"Can I have ..." Wonpil trailed off into a hum as he tried to ignore the sharp eyes on him and stared at the drink menu chalked onto the wall behind Dowoon. "Vanilla latte?"

"I'll make it," Dowoon said to — Wonpil was running out of epithets for him. "You go and help, um...?"

Helplessly, and choosing to believe in the agreement that he'd read, Wonpil told him.

"Wonpil-sshi," said Dowoon triumphantly, and turned to the coffee grinder.

Trying to keep his eyes solely on the display case, Wonpil swallowed hard and tried not to let anything embarrassing like, like blushing or his voice breaking happen as he asked, "Do you have any recommendations? What's your favourite?"

When he chanced a glance up, he had to look away almost immediately when their eyes met.

"I like ..." A pause, and a self-deprecating huff. "Everything, of course."

"Of course," Wonpil couldn't help but echo wrily.

The laugh that elicited sent electricity licking down his spine; it took every ounce of strength and self-preservation in Wonpil _not to look up again_.

"Well, okay. We're very proud of our injeolmi, of course, if you want more traditional treats, or else if everything's gone according to _schedule_ , the strawberry shortcakes are fresh out of the oven and not too heavy."

"Everything's gone fine, hyung," Dowoon said, offended, over the shriek of milk being steamed.

"I like fluffy cakes," Wonpil agreed, trying not to laugh at the by-play. "Okay, I'll have one. Thank you for the recommendation, um...?"

It turned out that Handsome Baker's name was Younghyun - or Brian - or possibly any number of things because he was also a) a gumiho; b) _much older than he looked_.

"Hyung must go by at least fifty other names by now," Dowoon said, having coming over to hand Wonpil his mug, steaming hot and redolent with the rich, amber scent of vanilla.

"Call me whatever you want," said Younghyun, leaning over the display case and still smiling that damnable smile. "Our cookies are fresh too, by the way. They're still cooling on the trays in there, but if you want one it's no problem at all."

Wonpil buried his face into his mug, all the better to escape ... all that, and then couldn't help but sigh dreamily. This latte really was very good. "I think you're spoiling me for any other cafes, Younghyun-sshi, Dowoon-sshi."

"We do our best to provide customers with the best experience possible."

The sing-song, plastic way in which Younghyun said it made Wonpil laugh again. "Why do I have a feeling you say that a lot?"

"Really?" Younghyun widened his eyes. "What could ever make you think that way?"

His cheeks were starting to hurt from how much he was smiling. Wonpil shook his head. "Where's my cake, Younghyun-sshi? Where's this customer service you're so proud of?"

"Ah!" Younghyun startled and straightened up from where he'd been tilted over his arms, crossed atop the display case. "Of course, sorry, go — go sit and I'll bring you your cake."

The cafe had fewer people inside than out, despite the autumnal chill in the air. Wonpil brought himself and his drink over to the corner furthest from the door, next to a wood-burning stove that was currently lying dormant. There was a shelf of CDs and LPs squatting next to it; he guessed the music system was hidden somewhere else.

Putting his mug down on a table, he bent over and tilted his head over to read the spine labels.

"I like this spot too," Younghyun said from behind him, then — "oh! Sorry, no, you're fine," when Wonpil jumped in surprise, almost knocked his freshly brewed latte over, and started apologising.

Flustered, Wonpil sat himself in one of the squashy armchairs next to his table and clutched his mug with both hands.

Much to his despair, Younghyun didn't go back to go do whatever bakers had to do when they came to work, but leaned his hip against the chair across the table and continued smiling down at Wonpil.

"So, what brings you here? You seeing Jae about something?"

"Oh," Wonpil shook his head. "It's not — it's not terribly interesting, and I am just very stupid, so —" he forked up an enormous bite of strawberry shortcake and shoved it in his mouth. And then tried not to make too embarrassing a noise, because the sponge was perfectly, meltingly fluffy, with a subtle fragrance unto itself, a pleasantly non-cloying cream, and perfectly sweet, firm strawberries.

"Good?" Younghyun asked, looking pleased already.

Swallowing hard and already regretting that the cake would be done sooner than he wanted, Wonpil nodded firmly.

"I'm glad. So, what terrible thing led you to need the services of our hyung across the street?"

The sigh was a reflex by this point, and Wonpil pillowed a cheek in his free hand. He was so tired of this, but — "Pixies," he said mournfully. "In my flat."

"Oh," said Younghyun, sounding sympathetic and warm and Wonpil was sure he was projecting at least a little. "Those little buggers. Exterminator standard though, right?"

"They underquoted me," Wonpil found himself telling Younghyun the whole sorry story. "And then said that the job was turning out to be more complicated than they'd thought — for pixies!! — and then the invoice was double the quote, at least! And now they've disappeared somewhere into the faerie realms."

"As is their wont." Dowoon nodded sympathetically from where he'd been eavesdropping and icing some fairy cakes ("our little joke," Younghyun laughed at himself a little self-consciously, and then smiled toothily at Wonpil when Wonpil had found himself compelled to laugh and assure him that the joke was funny).

Younghyun's face was a little less devastatingly distracting when Wonpil wasn't ravenous and tired, and he was apparently in possession of a heart which was apparently the sort of soft that meant Wonpil found himself with a paper bag of broken cookies on top of his coffee and cake.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything to help," said Younghyun, "but I hope these make you feel a little better."

"Oh," Wonpil couldn't help but smile back, helplessly charmed, "no, I — definitely."

"And," Younghyun winked, and Wonpil tried not to die, clutching the bag to his chest, "that they make you want to come back again."

Only the sight of Dowoon's face spasming into a rictus of second-hand embarrassment over Younghyun's shoulder preserved Wonpil's sanity.

"All right," Younghyun huffed, and pushed away from his perch. "I have to go work now, but stay as long as you like, Wonpil-sshi."

Impulsively, Wonpil said, "Just 'Wonpil' is fine."

Behind Younghyun, Dowoon's eyebrows flew up his forehead.

"Is that so?" Younghyun's eyes curved even harder. "Well then, if I don't see you before you leave, Wonpil, come back soon."

With that, he turned to go with a too-suave flick of his fingers; only the faint redness of his ears betrayed him.

Smiling to himself, Wonpil watched him go, thinking idle thoughts about the breadth of his shoulders and the cut of his shoulderblades under the thin jumper he had on. He glanced up from the consideration of Younghyun's ass and thighs in those jeans when Younghyun disappeared into the kitchen.

Dowoon's eyes met his; it seemed like his eyebrows had never made it down from around his hairline.

Wonpil blushed hard and buried his face back in his mug, inhaling half of its contents.

"I won't tell," Dowoon said cheerfully, then nodded towards a gaggle of ajumma sitting next to the main shop window. "But they might."

It seemed that they had come into the shop whilst Wonpil had been ... otherwise distracted, and in that time acquired tea, rice cakes, and new gossip fodder.

"Oh my god," Wonpil said, and put more cake in his mouth.

"Aigoo," one ajumma cooed loudly, "he's so cute, no wonder Younghyunie likes him!"

Because of course Korean aunties weren't scared of domesticated gumiho who made them rice cakes.

"Yah, don't scare him off," chided the ajumma in the bright fuschia vest. Wonpil's pretty sure his own grandmother owns a similar one. "He has to keep coming back."

A third turned a hawk-like gaze on him; Wonpil shrank a little underneath it. Dowwon's look of amusement was slowly morphing into one of concern, but just then a teeming horde of schoolchildren milled in through the door, clamouring for an after-school pre-hagwon snack.

"You will," she called out across the room, "won't you?"

"I —" Wonpil stuttered under the combined gazes of the ajumma inquisition and now the schoolchildren, whose curiosities had been piqued. "I ...will?"

"You don't sound very certain," Fuschia Ajumma said sternly.

("Wow," he heared one schoolchild not-whisper to their friend, "this is better than that stupid drama with Lee Seung Gi my noona likes.")

"I ... it's kind of far away for me ..." he trailed off, even though his bag of free cookie shards was right there in front of him, practically screaming _Come back! Come back!_ That, and the fact that he would have to come back, since Jae had his offices right across the street.

"Oh, I see," said Hawk Ajumma, "he's playing hard to get. Very wise, you know. Gumiho are still foxes in the end."

"What, are you saying our Younghyunie enjoys the thrill of a hunt?"

"Look at the dear! Of course Younghyunie would!"

All three ajumma turned to look at him; so did most of the horde of prepubescents milling about in front of the cashier, where Dowoon looked harried and amused in equal measure.

Wonpil gave up on any kind of decorum and buried his face in his hands.

"And that!" Dowoon's voice boomed out. "Will be fifty-seven hundred won for all of your orders!"

The ajumma inquisition were momentarily distracted by the outrageous amount children had to spend for pocket money in this day and age, etc. Wonpil almost cried in gratitude. He took the opportunity to retrieve his earphones, stick them in his ears, and crack open the book on universal design for learning his work mentor had recommended him instead.

It just seemed a waste of good food to scarf down the cake and run away the way he wanted to. And he was unable to suppress the tiny hope that Younghyun might emerge from the kitchen at some point.

A problem he nor Samsung, when designing noise-cancelling earphones, had anticipated was the mystical ability of ajumma voices to pierce through any kind of white noise generator. Thus, Wonpil was stuck trying to focus on pedagogical theory whilst hearing the greek chorus of ajumma talking about him.

"Ah, is he hiding from us?"

"What a shy boy."

"Do you think we scared him away? Dowoon-ah, did we?"

Dowoon's response was so low and rumbly his words were indiscernible.

At this point, Wonpil turned up the volume of his music — ear damage be damned — and lost himself in his book.

He was deep into reading about the neuroscience research and wondering why he was putting himself through this, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Wonpil jerked, looked up, and almost fell out of his chair when he looked up into Younghyun's smiling face. He was so _close_ ; did he have to stand so close?

"Sorry, sorry," Younghyun said, steadying him with a hand around his upper arm; his fingers seared through even the thick wool of Wonpil's cardigan. "It seems like all I do is startle you."

"Well," Wonpil said, brain still whirring into motion, "You're just a startling person, I suppose."

Younghyun laughed, throwing his head back a little. "Maybe. Your book's very interesting?"

Wonpil looked down at the thick, determinedly non-fictional book on the table, and blinked up at Younghyun. "It depends on what you find interesting. It is to me... want to see?" He held it out, back cover up first, and watched Younghyun bring it closer to his face, trying to ignore how closely their fingers sat on the book whilst Younghyun squinted at the blurb and mouthed the words out to himself.

Again, the word _cute_ rose in Wonpil's mind. Actually, he was amazed that he hadn't heard it yet — ah, it seemed the Ajumma Inquisition had left at some point. Hopefully they didn't think him too rude.

Letting the book gently back down onto the tabletop, Younghyun shook his head.

"I don't do well with books," he admitted, hand going up to cup the back of his neck as his eyes creased into sheepish crescents.

"Oh!" Wonpil perked up. "That's okay! Not everyone does! That's what this is about, actually, how to adjust for differences like that when you're teaching, and —" he broke off before he could roll on full-steam, a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm and the way Younghyun was looking at him.

"No, I'd love to hear more about it," Younghyun said. Then he smiled ruefully. "But I have to go back in soon, I just wanted to check in, you know, and say sorry about Auntie Seo and her friends, I heard they, uh, gave you a time earlier."

Wonpil blushed just to remember it. "It was ... um ..."

"Yeah," said Younghyun sympathetically. "But you know, would you like anything else? More coffee? Cake?"

It was then that Wonpil realised that he'd somehow managed to subconsciously finish his latte and cake.

"Oh, no, no!" Wonpil blew his cheeks out and started tidying his things away. "I need to go too, so..."

"Oh," said Younghyun, and sounded so crestfallen that Wonpil looked up whilst shoving the paper bag of cookies into his backpack. "No, it's just, I have something in the oven that — right, never mind."

Touched, Wonpil said, "I'll come back next time to try it."

Then he hurriedly turned his face away to zip his backpack shut and occupy himself with the arduous process of wriggling himself into his coat.

Younghyun was still standing there, just _looking_ at him, when Wonpil swung the bag onto his shoulders and started fussing with his scarf and gloves.

"Here, I'll see you out," he said, and gave a funny little dip at the waist.

Wonpil couldn't help the little chuff of laughter, or the heat in his cheeks as Younghyun shadowed him to the door. "Do you do this for all your new customers?"

"Hmmmm," hummed Younghyun, the teasing smile in his voice audible. "Maybe."

"Oh," said Wonpil, putting on his disappointed voice.

"But rarely!" Younghyun said immediately, with a gratifying note of panic in his voice. "Like, wow, so rarely. Almost never. In fact: never."

Somewhere behind them, Dowoon let out a wheezing noise.

Holding back his own laughter, Wonpil smiled at Younghyun. Even if the coffee hadn't been lovely and the sweet treats delightful, he'd definitely come back just for the sweet, fun thrill of this flirtation.

"I'll be going now," he said as sweetly as he could manage, glad that there were no longer any other customers in the shop itself.

"Uh," said Younghyun, whose eyes had gone all dark and sharp in a way that made Wonpil glad he had his hand pressed against the door. "Right, of course. Get home safely, Wonpilie."

Wonpil tried not to react to the way that diminutive made electricity shiver down his spine; he at least hoped that the rush of cold air as he pushed the door open disguised it. "Thanks, Younghyun-sshi, I will."

"And see you? Soon?" Younghyun asked, a hair too hopeful to be casual. It was nice, Wonpil reflected, the way _neither_ of them seemed to have it together. "I hope?"

Taking in a deep breath of fresh, cold mountain air, Wonpil gave him another smile and said, "Hmm, I think so. Your coffee _is_ very good, after all."

He let the door swing shut behind him on Younghyun's stunned expression.

Dowoon's laughter trailed after him all the way down the street.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>  **the brainstorming process**  
>  me: wouldn't it be fun (and also a fandom pleaser) to make it a supernatural AU too (not like spn the show, but with creatures of the eldritch sort)  
> \- how would that work though, would society be integrated?  
> \- would the bakery be a fae-run bakery?  
> [...]  
> \- if dowoon and younghyun are fae creatures, would they have to -- in an integrated society -- have to put up some kind of caveat ... cometor?  
> ->do customers have to sign liability waivers?  
> -> do dowoon and younghyun have to put up a legal guarantee of no obligation clearly posted somewhere on the business premises?  
> is this fic just going to turn into one long running joke about fae contracts and ... contracts in general?  
> bysine: YES 
> 
> BELIEVE IT OR NOT, this was supposed to be 1-2k max, part of a larger one-shot but lmao it grew so i guess it's a series now! 
> 
> if you enjoyed this pls kudos, comment & give this an [RT](https://t.co/e3PuKDx98J)! thank you (:


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